


Witness, B

by AstralPlace



Series: Witness [2]
Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gen, Love, Pure, because hes the main character, but not his pov, i dont hate her i just stan roger and mark, i hate first person, mostly mark centric, the part with maureen is kinda flirty, the part with roger can be read as shippy i guess but that wasnt intended, this is the happy one, why do i write about mark and roger at sunset so much holy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralPlace/pseuds/AstralPlace
Summary: Why is he their witness?A 5+1 things trope, without the +1. Five times Mark witnesses something beautiful.Each part is exactly 100 words, and the setup is in chronological order. This is the second half.





	Witness, B

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second half of my (kind of?) 5+5 prompt. AO3 won't let me indent anything, so please pretend each line is formatted properly. Will add tags if and when needed. Enjoy!

Maureen is standing there, grin spreading across her face, listening to Collins ramble on about his classes. She sends Mark a look and brushes her hair out of her eyes, and all Mark can think of is the color pink. She laughs at some remark that Collins makes about his students, and it’s like there are stars in the air. 

He shifts his attention to Tom. His grin is wider than Maureen’s— that’s possible— and he’s talking with his hands, animated. His laughter booms and his eyes are bright as he shares a look with Maureen. Mark feels incredibly soft.

******

He doesn’t remember what he said that could’ve made Roger laugh this hard. He can’t even remember the last time he saw Roger laugh. The only thing occupying Mark’s mind is the way he looks there, grin on his face, tears in the corners of his eyes, splayed over the couch, his guitar not in his arms but rather off to the right, on the floor. His face is flushed and he’s wrapping his arms around his stomach as he gasps for air. It’s been months since Roger last looked that alive— that happy.

Mark can’t focus on anything else.

******

He pans his camera to the left, over the railing of their balcony, catching the last glints of the Sun before it dips under the horizon. The darker pinks and purples gradient over everything, and the breeze is gentle and warming. It’s a very mild evening for early May.

The camera rolls on as the pinks fade to blues and the stars freckle the darkening sky. The two of them can be heard in the background of the recording, the faintest ghost of a mumble. For once, nothing is going terribly wrong.

They continue talking as the moon creeps out.

******

It’s one of the first few times that they get together at the cafe, and even though everyone’s been busy, they put aside the time to hang out for one afternoon.

It doesn’t matter that it’s currently below freezing outside and none of them want to go and brave it— and it also doesn’t matter that this is the third time in a week that they’ve all eaten something there without being able to pay. Even if the staff there is getting a little sick of it.

They stay there well into the evening. At least they didn’t order much.

******

There’s a soft patter of rain against the roof, and the clock in the kitchen reads four in the afternoon. Mimi’s over again, probably until dinner— although, she’s currently on the couch, wrapped in at least three blankets, caught between resting her eyes and dozing off into sleep.

Roger keeps glancing up from his hand of cards to look at her, and Mark can’t help doing the same. She sleeps a lot lately, but it’s mostly from the amount that she’s been working.

The world outside is gray, but it’s beautiful instead of bleary. Mark wins their game of cards.


End file.
